


Him

by bonded



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Established Relationship, Kyle is post top surgery and hysterectomy, M/M, Trans Kyle Broflovski, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 04:53:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16968039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonded/pseuds/bonded
Summary: To Stan, Kyle is a treasure. The sentiment is not mutually exclusive.





	Him

Touching Kyle had always been a gift to Stan. It was a privilege that he was well aware of, the ability to caress Kyle’s curls, to trace shapes along his skin and kiss his way down his body. Stan appreciated all of the little things about Kyle’s body that this privilege gave unto him. He liked the redness of the hair that adorned Kyle’s armpits and his chest, down to his navel and his groin, lighter than the hair on his head. Almost blond, on his chest. He liked the subtle mix of moles and freckles that dotted Kyle’s skin: one mole on his neck, two on his shoulder, three on his back. Stan kissed each, but there were too many freckles to go one by one, so he usually licked Kyle’s neck down to his chest.

His chest was something beautiful. Two mirrored scars lied just under hand-sutured nipples, an artistic sculpture to go against the likes of Michelangelo. Kyle was always fussy and self-conscious of his chest—nothing about himself was ever perfect enough, especially not his body—but Stan did his best to make it clear how much he loved it—worshipped it, really, from head to toe.

In bed, Kyle rolled him over and straddled him. Stan liked him like this: controlling, on top, dripping for him. He wanted to move his hands from Kyle’s waist down further south, but he held back—Kyle was particular about that, as well.

“Look at you,” Kyle said. Stan could imagine how he looked, on his back on the bed: shirtless, black hair messy, flushed and breathless. Kyle’s hand went to his cock and stroked him. Stan tried not to arch under his administrations, and failed. “You’re so hard. I love this, Stanley, did you know?” He spreads his legs wider to allow Stan to see his own hardness, flushed red and dripping precome. Stan couldn’t help staring instead at Kyle’s dick. It was small and hard as well—it poked out the most that way, was at its biggest—and it accompanied a slick hole just below it. Kyle was teasing him, being so close to his cock. He continued speaking. “This, right here. I would lay down my life for it.”

“Stop teasing me,” Stan said. He knew Kyle was joking, but it felt serious to say. He wanted to echo the sentiment back: _Me too, I would die to have you, to keep you forever in my arms. I wouldn’t even hesitate._

“You know the word I like to hear.”

“Please,” Stan said quickly, struggling not to hump into Kyle’s hand. “Please, Kyle.”

“Good boy.” Kyle smiled. “Give me your hand.”

Stan did. Kyle leaned to be able to bring Stan’s fingers to his mouth, which put the slickness of him right on Stan’s thigh. He humped it once, listlessly, before remembering himself. Once Stan’s fingers were wet enough, Kyle brought them down, low, to his openness. This was Stan’s permission, he knew, the permission he needed, so he took the initiative now, rubbing lovingly at Kyle’s dick before going lower. He glanced up, wanting to catch Kyle’s eye, but Kyle was watching his administrations. He moaned when Stan dipped a single finger in.

Stan fucked him slowly like this, with just the one. He wanted to enjoy this part; it wasn’t rare, exactly, for Kyle to let Stan play with him this way, but it was still something that Stan knew wasn’t that easy for Kyle to do, so he focused on the foreplay. All Stan wanted, ever, was to make Kyle feel good.

Eventually Kyle was leaning down into his finger. “More, Stan.”

Stan obliged. He fucked him with two fingers for a few moments, then three. What he really wanted was to bring his mouth there, to fuck Kyle with his tongue, to make him really feel good and lavish his dick with the attention it deserved, but he knew this wasn’t the time for that. Kyle wasn’t going to be patient enough for that.

Kyle grasped Stan’s chin in his hand and pulled his head up to make him face him. He looked like he wanted to say something, but they kissed, because Stan just had to. Kyle fell into it, opening his mouth to him. They stayed like that, kissing, Stan’s fingers pushing in and out of him languidly. “I love you,” Stan said against his lips. He just couldn't help saying it sometimes, during moments like this.

“Yeah,” Kyle nodded. His voice wavered a little. “Yes, I mean—me too. I love you. Will you fuck me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be ordering me?”

Kyle blew a raspberry into his chin and sat back up defiantly, smiling. Stan was smiling too. He wanted to bring his hand to his chin, as if he was a schoolboy and his crush had just kissed him there. “Then I’ll make you fuck me,” Kyle said. He grabbed Stan’s stiffness and stroked it, though he didn’t need to—Stan was plenty turned on.

As Kyle aligned himself Stan went to hold his thigh, but Kyle caught his wrist and shoved it away, toward the bed. “Wipe your fingers off.” He didn’t like to get his own wetness on himself. Stan smiled a little and brought his fingers to his mouth, licking it off. His smile grew when Kyle made a face at that, because the action also made Kyle’s cheeks go red. “Good enough?” he asked.

“Fine. You ready?” He didn’t bother waiting for Stan’s reply—he inserted Stan inside of him, slowly, inch by inch, until he was all the way seated. Stan had to close his eyes as Kyle went, overwhelmed by this feeling: of Kyle trusting him so much, of Kyle’s warmth enveloping him, at once grounding him and lifting him up. “Yes,” Kyle hissed. He gave an experimental roll. “Yes.” His hands were on Stan’s chest, squeezing his pecs lightly. “Are you okay?”

Stan exhaled a shaky breath. “You feel so good.”

His breathing didn’t steady when Kyle rose and fell on his dick, and then again, and again. Stan moaned, and this incited Kyle to start riding him in earnest. The sounds of Kyle breathing heavily and making those small noises just at the back of his throat drove Stan crazy—his fingers gripped Kyle’s thighs hard, potentially leaving bruises.

He couldn’t stop himself from rolling them over, Kyle on his back now. Stan drilled into him, balanced on his elbows. “Yes,” Kyle said. He couldn’t stop saying it. “Oh, yes, yes, God, Stan— _yes_.”

Stan could feel his orgasm coming up on him. He slowed a little, wanting to last. He’d gotten a lot better at it over the years—when they first started dating, it was embarrassing how fast he would come.

“Your dick was made for me,” Kyle was saying, truly out of his mind now. His eyes were closed as he spoke. His legs wrapped around Stan’s back, keeping him close. “God didn’t give me my own, so he gifted me yours.”

“That doesn’t really make much sense.” Stan grinned as he fucked him. He was pleased; he liked being reminded that his love for Kyle and his body wasn’t one-sided.

“It makes perfect se- _ense_.” The word trailed off into a choked moan. Stan could feel Kyle clenching around him, his body twitching in his arms. Stan fucked him harder and faster as Kyle came. Kyle clutched at him desperately, his nails dragging across Stan's back, his breaths labored.

“I’m close,” Stan admitted after a few moments. Kyle's eyes were still closed. “Can I—?”

“Please, please.” Kyle was nodding fervently. He opened his eyes to meet Stan’s blue. “Come in me, Stan, fill me up. I want you dripping out of me.”

Stan's heart fluttered. This meant Kyle was in a great mood because stuff like this—unlike most of what’s been said so far—was very, very rare. Stan couldn’t hold himself together anymore, overwhelmed by the words. "Fuck," he said as his dick throbbed inside Kyle, and as he pushed himself deeper, as deep as he could, his hips stuttering. "Fuck, Kyle."

Kyle hummed. His hands came up to hold both sides of Stan’s face, and he brought Stan down into a gentle kiss. Stan poured everything he had into the kiss despite his unsteady breathing: his warmth, his body, his whole heart. He didn’t want to pull out of Kyle yet. He liked this, just resting here, going soft inside of him.

“I can’t believe you flipped me over,” Kyle said. He put his hand on Stan’s shoulder and pushed Stan to his back, bringing his dick out of him. Kyle moved up to rest beside him, propping himself up on one elbow.

Stan didn’t find it all that hard to believe, himself. “Should I say sorry?”

Kyle smiled passively. He reached a few fingers into himself to scoop out Stan’s come and then brought his fingers up to Stan's mouth. Stan licked at them without complaint, maintaining eye contact. “You’re so gross,” Kyle said. But Stan knew he liked this aspect of him. His willingness to lick, suck, and swallow.

Stan wasn’t going to lie to him and say it tasted great, because it didn’t, but it was more the idea of it that was appealing anyway. When Kyle’s fingers were clean—well, “clean”—he brought Kyle's hand to his hair, a silent urging to run his fingers through it. Kyle did.

Stan closed his eyes. “I don’t ever want to lose this,” he said.

“I’ll always be here,” Kyle promised him. He kissed Stan on his cheek, and Stan felt like a schoolboy all over again.


End file.
